The Light of the Casey
by NotMarge
Summary: He fought, Kevin fought, to get into the Light of the Casey. The only soft, warming light, he had ever known.
1. The Light of the Casey

I do not own Glass, Split, or Unbreakable.

I do not own a horde.

The Light of the Casey

* * *

He fought to get to The Light.

Not The Light that they, the Horde, sat around, waiting to get to their turn.

Well, yes, that Light.

But that was not The Light that he fought for.

Only into it as a way to get into The Light of the Casey.

Casey.

So knowing of pain. And suffering.

Yet so capable of gentleness, of kindness, of stillness and calm.

He fought past them.

Past the babbling Rakel, screaming something unintelligible in Spanish.

Past Jade and her raging diabetes and hormones.

Patricia, shouting, commanding them all in the name of the faith of the Beast.

Even past Mr. Dennis as he reprimanded Barry for leaving his art supplies all over the apartment.

And Hedwig who was laughing in the faces of the tweed-wearing Orwell and the supremely Scottish Mary Reynolds.

He even braved to duck under the snapping teeth of the Beast.

All to throw himself into The Light of the Casey.

Her pale, oval face. Her straight dark hair that smelled like lilacs and not iron starched flesh.

Casey, whose touch made him think of quiet conversations on hillsides under blue skies billowed with lazy cottonball clouds.

Comfortable quiet and gentle hands.

And everything normal and natural and easy and relaxed that people who weren't him did all the time.

Things he couldn't even begin to understand and imagine.

Like a friend.

A friend who didn't hit, a friend who didn't hurt.

A friend who accepted and listened.

And sometimes touched your arm or your shoulder or your cheek in a nice, caring manner.

All the things Kevin Wendell Crumb could never, would never . . .

"Casey?"

"Kevin?"

. . . have.

* * *

 **So much potential for writing for Glass here.**

 **I have no idea really where to start or how to proceed, to be honest.**

 **I guess with this bit of raw emotion here.**

 **Everybody appreciates feedback. Leave a review if you like.**


	2. Me and All My Friends

I do not own Glass, Split, or Unbreakable.

I do not own a horde.

The Light of the Casey

Me and All My Friends

* * *

"Casey?"

It could have been so much different.

"Hey, Kevin."

Should have been so much different.

"I hope I'm not too early."

"Nope. Right on time. Let me get my bag."

As she grabbed the colorful, knit, crossbody bag . . .

 _Ooh, very bohemian. Tell her it's my aesthetic now._

"Barry says he likes your bag."

"Oh. Well, thanks."

 _That's not what I said at all._

. . . Kevin caught a whiff of her dark hair . . .

 _You do know that human hair catches all the floating particles in the air. It's filthy._

 _Looks alright to me, Dennis._

. . . and thought it smelled nice.

"You okay, Kevin?"

"Yes. Thanks."

* * *

The day was bright and sunny, puffy white clouds drifting lazily across the hopeful spring sky.

"-uate soon."

"Really? What are you going to do?"

He couldn't think of a single thing he might do if he was in her position.

He had never had any hopes or dreams at all.

But that was okay. Because maybe Casey did.

"Actually, I was thinking of studying psychology."

Her pale cheeks pinkened a little, mouth turning up at the corner into a small smile.

"I want to work with people with DID. Help them better understand themselves and function as a whole, not split apart."

 _Oh, what a sweet child. Please tell her we would be so grateful for her to help others like us._

"Miss Patricia says she thinks that's a good idea. People like us need all the help we can get."

It was still weird for him, talking so openly about his alters.

Not having to worry about being judged for it.

He had never been this open and sincere with anyone before, except Dr. Fletcher.

And that had only ever been out of desperation.

"- can," Casey was saying softly now. "No one should have to feel isolated and all alone."

Kevin didn't have a response to this . . .

 _Anthropologically speaking, human beings have always exhibited a tendency to seek out the companionship of other human beings. Of course, so do many other-_

 _Wait, Orwell, what-_

. . . at least none that he could speak out loud right now.

They walked along, separate and together.

They were out together.

But not out _together_.

He was too old for her, over thirty to her seventeen.

Her having just started branching out into the world while him having spent too many years consumed with too many voices and people and trauma in his head to really look around.

But now, finally, _finally_ , the sun he'd never even known might be there might be starting break through the clouds a little.

". . . college here for a while to get started."

And Kevin Wendell Crumb finally had his first friend.

First real friend.

Just a friend.

 _Of course she's just your friend, jeez. I mean, she really likes me. We've been dating_ forever _, etcera._

And it was nice.

"Hey, do you want to get some ice cream?"

 _No, honey, are you kidding? It'll go straight to my hips!_

 _Just a little, Jade._

 _Helado picante!_

 _That'll give us ulcers, Rakel._

Hands stuffed in pockets.

Strolling side by side.

In the fresh afternoon day.

* * *

There were a few bumps and hiccups along the way.

"Hey, baby, how'd you like a lick of my lollipop?"

 _Grrr . . . Allow me to rip his throat out with my teeth-_

 _Wait, just give us a second to see if we can . . ._

 _His blood will taste righteously satisfying on my tongue . . ._

 _. . . get by._

But for the most part, it was an easy, smooth afternoon.

 _See? It's okay._

 _Unworthy swine . . ._

And at then end of it . . .

"Thank you for spending the afternoon with me, Kevin."

"Thanks for inviting us, Casey."

. . . she leaned forward and hugged him.

Not intimate or sexual or anything like that.

But friendly and caring and nice.

And sincere.

"I'm glad you're my friend, Kevin. I'm glad you're okay."

"We are too, Casey. Thank you."

* * *

But none of that ever happened.

Because as Casey's deep, dark eyes stilled the rage of the Beast and brought Kevin Wendell Crumb the courage to step into the warm Light of her presence, the sniper on the roof took aim.

Waited for the slightest shift in her stance to take opening.

And shot him right through the heart.

 _Casey?_

And Kevin Wendell Crumb and all of the twenty-two other living, breathing, thinking entities housed inside his scarred, bruised, split body, died.

 _Casey?_

And faded away from the Light of the Casey.

* * *

 **Well, I've come back to Kevin and Casey because frankly, I had to.**

 **You know?**

 **Anyway, thanks to blacklily725, Felicity Dream, The Mighty Gamersaurs, TheConjuringMind, Archel-Always, EagerCastle, and Gracious Guest for reviewing previously!**

 **Thanks also to Aelys Liddell, Andressa Freitas, Archel-Always, Blue Kitsune, CL-SlayQueen, ChiaraKA, DontCountMeOut, FuzzyPinkStar, Gwynbear7, Itsabird, Jasper6509, Jazz'Cookie'Monster-5955, Jurassikuh, Kard666, Kaytey1996, Pamplemousse M, Natnat24, RedHood001, Ryu1417, Shehawah, StarReader2009, TheLifeStruggleIsREAL, Xkarra of the sandX, Yuu Valentine, , jessykunoichi, yukivampireknight16, Irenita55, Geekgirl127, Lsheart, augydoggy95, and NEDCL1 for adding your support this story.**

 **If I skipped anyone, it was accidental and I apologize. You all and the silent readers mean so much to me, always. :D**


	3. Wow

I do not own Glass, Split, or Unbreakable.

I do not own a horde.

The Light of the Casey

Wow

* * *

Kevin Wendell Crumb was crazy.

Around the corner, out of his mind, batshit crazy.

Yep.

Except in a way, he really wasn't.

Casey wasn't crazy; she didn't have Stockholm syndrome.

She didn't even think he was cute.

When all his alters had her locked up, she had been crippled with terror and fear.

Just trying to survive one or two seconds, minutes longer.

Not really able to think clearly about what the hell was going on.

But then, after she had shot him and been rescued by the local authorities, and then saved again . . .

". . . is here to pick you up . . . are you okay?"

Unbelievable, unreal, ungodly strain to speak, to stand up for herself.

To fight back again.

Because she never ever had.

"No."

Not ever.

"I don't want to go with him."

Not until then.

"He rapes me."

Not until she could turn away no longer.

"What?!"

. . . from the grubbing, slimy paws of her scumbag, horndog, fucker of an uncle . . .

". . . never have to see him again, Casey."

"Thank you."

. . . she had started to calm down.

And think about him.

Kevin Wendell Crumb.

And wonder . . .

 _What the hell even is it anyway?_

. . . about his condition.

Multiple personalities.

What she had seen in movies.

And so she had, in between adjusting to her new foster home . . .

". . . Lisa and Devon . . ."

. . . attending therapy . . .

". . . -gin to heal . . ."

. . . and going to a brand new school where nobody knew her ever, . . .

". . . meet you, I'm Mrs. Stewart . . ."

. . . she had begun to search for Kevin.

For _understanding_ to Kevin.

Multiple personality disorder.

An antiquated label, she had discovered.

Now a more modern understanding.

DID.

Dissociative Identity Disorder.

And she had been fascinated.

 _Wow_.

And, more than a little jealous.

Not for the fact that he had so many fruit loops in his head that he, . . .

". . . Hedwig. I have red socks."

. . . Kevin, couldn't control them all.

 _Wow_.

But for the fact they were there, essentially, to protect him.

Deal with situations he couldn't deal with.

Face trauma.

Suffer.

Or even just manage to function in society, interact with others more capably.

For him.

Kevin.

Because he couldn't.

When Uncle John had begun . . . doing the things he had done to her so many years ago, nobody had been there to protect her.

Nobody.

She had been all alone.

Weak, helpless.

Unable to fight back.

Just like Kevin.

And when Uncle John had crept into her room at night with his lying words and his bad touches, she would try to go away in her mind.

Pretend she was somewhere else, someone else.

It never quite worked, she never could really escape. Especially not the way Kevin could.

Kevin's mind literally created other people, a bunch considering how many folders she had seen on his home screen, to take over for him.

Casey could never escape it, could never disappear entirely from the misery, from the shame, from the pain and disgust.

It was why she had started cutting herself.

To make the emotional pain less.

By making the physical pain worse.

Try to get it out of her.

Without dying.

Yet.

But she could never get away from it.

Not like Kevin could.

Even the Beast was created to be strong, be powerful, where Kevin was weak, helpless.

And Casey . . .

 _Wow._

. . . couldn't even imagine.

* * *

 **Now understand, I nor Casey think Kevin is in any way at all 'lucky'. What was done to him was unspeakable. I actually have trouble writing for it because I terrifies me to look at my toddlers (close to Kevin's supposed age when his mother started in on him) and I just get sick to my stomach.**

 **And I've got a strong stomach.**

 **But still, the mystery of the mind's capability begs consideration.**

 **So thanks for reading and protect the little ones, okay?**

 **Protect us all.**


	4. The Believer

I do not own Split or Glass.

I still have not split.

The Light of the Casey

The Believer

* * *

Miss Patricia was the first and very oldest amongst them, the ones that sat around The Light.

She was created as a mother figure for Kevin.

A real mother figure

Kind, calm, caring.

Even toned and even tempered.

She stroked his hair and told him stories.

She made pb and j sandwiches for him when he was hungry and left alone in the house by himself.

She made him sit very quietly away in the still dark when Things Got Bad and B.T. was sent in to take the pain.

Patricia was very gentle and kind.

Then she evolved.

She wanted more for the growing horde of followers that sat around The Light.

She wanted justice from the brutalities of the world.

She wanted protection for Kevin and the Others.

She wanted, needed, something to believe in.

Miss Patricia did not know that Dissociative Identity Disorder alters typically do not change and grow their personalities.

So she began to change and evolve anyway.

Becoming a . . . Believer.

A Believer of The Beast.

It didn't happen all at once.

Believers have to believe in the light, know that it is there before they can see it.

That's what makes them Believers and not Knowers.

They have Faith.

Faith that He would put right the wrongs

He would show the world they were not weak.

But strong.

And that no one could ever hurt them again

And Patricia became not only the Mother but the Believer.

And when the end came, when the bullet entered the body's chest, tore through flesh and bone to pierce the heart and end all their lives, Patricia mourned.

She mourned the loss of the rest of their lives as only a mother could.

She mourned the pain that filled the girl's dark, depthless eyes.

And she mourned that she did not have further time . . .

"I always believed. Tell them, tell them I always believed."

. . . to prove her loyalty and belief in The Beast.

"I always believed."

* * *

 **Can I say again how much I loved, no matter how darkly, this character?**

 **I mean, my goodness.**

 **Anyway, thanks to the silent readers of this story. :)**


End file.
